


Ignorance is Bliss

by CPFics



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPFics/pseuds/CPFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cardinal gives Aramis some bad news, Aramis turns to Athos and Porthos for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignorance is Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something not smutty so ... here you go.
> 
> I seem to be being really horrid to Aramis recently, I'll try to bully someone else next time.

Athos looked up at the sound of footsteps, in time to see Aramis stumble against the wall in the arched entrance to the barracks and vomit on the ground. Porthos, who had seen Athos look up and followed his gaze, was immediately on his feet, rushing to the side of his brother-in-arms, with Athos barely half a pace behind. 

Aramis had collapsed to his knees, his head resting against the cold stone wall, his whole body shuddering with sobs. Porthos at once fell down next to him, gently pulling him away from the wall and into his arms.

“Aramis, what’s happened?” Athos asked, crouching down beside his friends and putting his hand on Aramis’ shoulder. Aramis simply shook his head, his lips pressed together so tightly they’d gone white, probably afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d be sick again.

“Breathe, Aramis,” said Porthos, concerned by his friend’s stillness. Aramis breathed, a deep, broken, shuddering breath, and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. His breaths came in rapid gasps, in and out, his diaphragm heaving under the strain, and he doubled over until his hair brushed the floor. Tears spattered the ground in front of him.

“Aramis,” Athos spoke quietly, gently lifting Aramis’ face until their eyes met. “Look at me, Aramis, I need you to take a nice deep breath in...”

Aramis did, his lungs protesting, fighting, forcing the breath to enter him in a ragged, stuttering sob.

“... and out again, slowly, that’s it.”

Aramis’ eyes never left Athos’, even as the tears continue to spill from them, as he slowly exhaled. They stayed like the for some time, Aramis slumped against Porthos as Athos counted his breaths, until at last Aramis no longer seemed as though his body was rejecting the air and his red, raw eyes fell closed with relief.

Athos signalled to Porthos to stay with him, and ran up the stairs to Treville’s quarters. He convinced Treville that Aramis had been badly hurt, and that he and Porthos needed the afternoon to look after him. Treville gave him a long, searching look before he relented. Athos returned to his friends, and he and Porthos carried Aramis back to Athos’ apartments, as they were closest. They sat him down on the edge of the bed, Porthos wrapped his arms around him, and Athos passed him a bottle of wine, from which Aramis drank deeply.

When he had finished, he handed the bottle back to Athos and stared at his hands.

“I bumped into the Cardinal,” he said. “On my way to the barracks.”

Athos and Porthos exchanged a concerned look over Aramis’ head.

“What happened?” Porthos prompted gently, rubbing wide circles into Aramis’ back with his hand.

“Adele,” Aramis said, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “He told me…”

He collapsed forwards, covering his face with his hand, and Porthos tightened his grip to stop him falling onto the floor. Aramis turned and buried his face in Porthos chest. Athos at once moved onto the bed and reached out to comfort Aramis, putting one hand on his shoulder, one on his thigh, and resting his head on his arm.

 Aramis reached down to his belt, and produced his pistol. Athos took it from him and examined it.

“This is the one you lost,” he said.

Aramis nodded.

“In Adele’s bedroom.”

Porthos and Athos looked at each other wide-eyed as they began to connect the dots. Aramis sobbed before he spoke again.

“He - the Cardinal - he said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll find it has one less bullet,’”

The last word slurred into a wail as Aramis tightened his hands in Porthos’ shirt. Athos’ blood ran cold and his stomach turned to lead. He ground his teeth together as his vision began to turn red. Then, despite Porthos’ best efforts, Aramis sobbed and slid onto the floor, and Athos was pulled back to the present. His anger was no help to them now, it was not what Aramis needed. He slipped down next to Aramis and pulled the other man against his chest. Aramis fell against him, boneless, tears pouring down his cheeks as he wept. Athos’ heart broke for him: they often joked, him and Porthos, that Aramis’ affairs were nothing but lust, but really they knew better, they knew that Aramis really did love every single man and woman he took to bed because that was how Aramis worked. Aramis could have fallen in love with someone before Athos trusted them to hold his hat.

Porthos eased himself down next to them and gathered them both into his arms, clearly noticing how much it hurt Athos to see Aramis so upset. Athos rested his head against Porthos’ shoulder, and Porthos pulled him close, twisting to kiss his temple, before leaning down to kiss Aramis’ hair.

None of them knew how long they stayed there, a tangle of limbs, but eventually it seemed that Aramis had run out of tears. He wriggled out of Athos and Porthos’ arms, and they all leaned back against the bed. Aramis looked like death - his face was pale, except his eyes, which were red and bloodshot, and his hair stuck lifelessly to his tear-wet cheeks - and he was breathing heavily, as though from physical exertion. His expression was hollow and empty in a way that made Athos’ stomach drop.

“I had almost moved on,” Aramis said at last. “Almost. I could have moved on, thinking she’d chosen the Cardinal over me. I could have lived with that, but this? I killed her.”

His voice cracked again, but no more tears came, no more sobs.

“This is not your fault, Aramis,” said Porthos. “Adele welcomed you willingly into her bed, and the Cardinal’s punishment was both cruel and unnecessary.”

“Porthos is right,” said Athos when Aramis looked as though he was about to argue. “Grieve for Adele by all means, but do not blame yourself.”

Aramis turned to Athos, reached up to rest his hand on Athos’ neck, and brought their lips together. The kiss lasted only a second before Aramis’ pulled away, his head dropping onto Athos’ shoulder. Porthos closed in again on Aramis’ other side, throwing one arm round Aramis and over Athos’ shoulder and placing the other hand on Aramis’ knee, where he rubbed small circles with his thumb. Athos rested his head on Aramis’, and Porthos let his head drop onto his own outstretched arm. Eventually Aramis fell asleep, and Porthos and Athos talked in low voices about everything and nothing, until they eventually lapsed into silence, and themselves drifted into a doze.


End file.
